"Sure the car wasn't tan-colored?" he asked to test him. "It might 'a' been tan, come to think of it." "You're right certain Kitty was in it?" "I heerd her holler from inside. She called my name. I run after the car, but I couldn't catch it." Clay slipped a revolver under his belt. He slid into a street coat. Then he got police headquarters on the wire and notified the office of what had taken place. He knew that the word would be flashed in all directions and that a cordon would be stretched across the city to intercept any suspicious car. Over the telephone the desk man at headquarters fired questions at him, most of which he was unable to answer. He promised fuller particulars as soon as possible. It had come on to rain and beneath the street lights the asphalt shone like a river. The storm had driven most people indoors, but as the Westerner drew near the drugstore Clay saw with relief a taxicab draw up outside. Its driver, crouched in his seat behind the waterproof apron as far back as possible from the rain, promptly accepted Lindsay as a fare. "Back in a minute," Clay told him, and passed into the drug-store. The abduction was still being discussed. There was a disagreement as to whether the girl had stepped voluntarily into the car or been lifted in by the man outside. This struck the cattleman as unimportant. He pushed home questions as to identification. One of the men in the drug-store had caught a flash of the car number. He was sure the first four figures were 3967. The fifth he did not remember. The car was dark blue and it looked like a taxi. This information Clay got the owner of the car to forward to the police. He did not wait to give it personally, but joined Johnnie in the cab. The address he gave to the driver with the waterproof hat pulled down over his head was that of a certain place of amusement known as Heath's Palace of Wonders. A young woman he wanted to consult was wont to sit behind a window there at the receipt of customs. "It's worth a fiver extra if you make good time," Lindsay told the driver. "You're on, boss," answered the man gruffly. Johnnie, in a fever of anxiety, had trotted along beside his chief to the drug-store in silence. Now, as they rushed across the city, he put a timid question with a touch of bluff bravado he did not feel. "We'll get her back sure, don't you reckon?" "We'll do our best. Don't you worry. That won't buy us anything." "No--no, I ain't a-worryin' none, but--Clay, I'd hate a heap for any harm to come to that li'l' girl." His voice quavered. "Sho! We're right on their heels, Johnnie. So are the cops. We'll make a gather and get Kitty back all right." Miss Annie Millikan's pert smile beamed through the window at Clay when he stepped up. "Hello, Mr. Flat-Worker," she sang out. "How many?" "I'm not going in to see the show to-night. I want to talk with you if you can get some one to take yore place here."